


Sankt Nikolai Day

by nazyalenskyism



Series: Grishaverse Collection [8]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Fluff, just a holiday piece, let me dream they'll all be happy one day, too happy to be close to cannon but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28343193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazyalenskyism/pseuds/nazyalenskyism
Summary: Sankt Nikolai's day is celebrated on the darkest day of the year, and so the king and his friends have a little celebration of their own this year.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Grishaverse Collection [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959739
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Sankt Nikolai Day

**Author's Note:**

> Just a holiday fic! I hope you enjoy! <3

“No!” Genya exclaimed, batting Zoya’s hand away from the tray at the center of the table, “this one’s so much better.” Zoya stared at the snowflake shaped pastry that she was trying to grab as Genya placed a glimmering dessert on her plate. It was a soft golden yellow colour, complete with gilded edges, a beautifully crafted star. She shot Nikolai a look across the table, he’d ordered all the dishes served tonight, it had to be intentional, but she was the only one who knew about the star-shaped scar that sat directly atop his heart, a result of his ordeal in the fold. His eyes flicked upwards and he caught her gaze, shooting her a coy wink before turning back to his heated conversation with Tolya about how best to prank Tamar or something along those lines. 

What did the pastry mean, did it mean anything? Was she simply reading into something that wasn't there? She shook her head, looking back to her plate, he was even more insufferable tonight than usual, and she couldn’t figure out why. The whole day had been spent at bonfires, a banquet luncheon, sledding, all leading to this private dinner in Nikolai’s chambers with just the seven of them, maybe he was simply unburdened today. Either way as insufferable as he was, it was nice to see him happy. It wasn’t like he truly showed how stressed he was, but she could always feel it. It was a consequence of all the time they spent together, she would be doing a bad job if she didn’t know him as well as the back of her own hand, and Zoya refused to do anything poorly. There had been a few moments today though where she felt like he was acting even more different than usual, the looks he’d given her were puzzling to say the least. 

After dinner they sank to the floor around the fire where they passed around drinks and stories that they rarely shared. Flushed with liquor and contentment, they moved on to yet another tradition of Sankt Nikolai’s day, the swapping of presents. Genya and David had gifted him a pair of fur-lined boots, Tamar and Nadia had given him a red wool coat, and Tolya a pair of woolen gloves, all the gifts Sankt Nikolai had received in the old saint story. They’d also presented him with bottles of cherry wine from that street rat’s club in Ketterdam, something he apparently enjoyed, but when a goblet had been passed to Zoya, she had to admit that it wasn’t _terrible_ , it was actually quite good.  
As her turn drew closer, Zoya toyed with beading at her cuffs, she was starting to doubt her gift again. Her gift to Nikolai would be the last one opened tonight, and she worried that maybe it was _too bold_. She wasn’t sentimental, but she wanted to express her thanks to him. A thank you for the peace, the quiet, the companionship for the last three years, and since she couldn’t say it she wanted her gift to communicate it. But as it got closer and closer to the time Nikolai would open her gift she felt more nervous, a feeling that was very uncharacteristic for her. 

And that wasn’t even the only thing bugging her. When it was time for the king to present his gift to her, he just smiled innocently and said, “Nazyalensky’s gift isn’t ready yet, she’ll get it later.” _What was that supposed to mean?_. Maybe she should do the same, and just pretend that she didn’t bring it to their little party-- but no, that would never work, it was clearly sitting in the middle of their little circle. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” Nikolai said, his eyes glinting as he embraced his friend with one arm. At his feet lay a bound volume of poetry maybe, but it had Nikolai’s name on the cover.

“Wait,” she gasped, diving over Genya to scoop up the big book, “is this _your_ poetry?” 

“Nazyalensky, give it back.” Zoya shot him a look in response and he sank back, “fine, you can read one, just ONE.” 

She pushed her shoulders back, channeling her inner Nikolai, in all his theatrical glory. “This one is called--” 

“Not out-loud!” 

“Think of this as my gift, since you clearly forgot mine.”= 

“I didn’t forget your gift, it’s just not ready yet.” 

“That sounds exactly like what someone who didn’t get me a gift would say!” 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, “fine. You can read one. Just one, commander.” 

Tamar let out a sharp laugh, “I can’t wait to hear this.” 

Zoya cleared her throat, “it’s called, ‘the harpy...’ really your highness?” At the cheering of Genya and a very tipsy David and Tamar, she continued, ignoring Nikolai’s pointed eye roll.

_“floodlit break of day  
_ _a perfect, warm beauty fills  
_ _pushing away the dark_

_a brilliant ocean  
_ _a royal, sharp blue invites  
_ _calling to the eyes_

_twinkling nighttime  
_ _a radiant kiss softly  
_ _against the fingers”_

Zoya frowned, “this wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. What is it supposed to be about?”

“Are you kidding me?” Nadia blurted out, “Zoya mmfmfm--” Tamar’s hand clamped over her mouth, keeping her from hearing the rest of Nadia’s sentence. 

“What?” 

“Oh Zoya, maybe you’ll get it one day,” Genya laughed, throwing an arm around Tolya, “try to work it out tonight. And with that, we need to get to bed, goodnight!” And with a flourished bow, she and the others had collected their gifts and closed the door behind them, leaving her and Nikolai alone, his poetry book still in her hands. She swapped it for the gift box she’d wrapped earlier in the day, the idea of presenting the items in it to him still making her stomach flutter. 

“Here,” Zoya thrust the package at his chest, spinning on her heel and tailing towards the door. She didn’t want to stick around and see his reaction, giving him a gift had been embarrassing enough for this lifetime. 

“Nazyalensky, wait,” warm, calloused fingers grasped at her wrist turning her back around. Nikolai had a strange look on his face, he looked a little confused, a little amused and a little exasperated all at once. “You haven’t gotten your present yet.” 

“Wasn’t the poem my gift? We have lots to do in the morning and I have to get to sleep.” She tried to tug free, but the king’s grip was like iron. 

“You know it wasn’t, and no, we don’t. Sit.” 

She sighed indignantly, strutting over to the armchairs before the fire, her back as straight as a rod, every muscle in her body tense. She _really_ didn’t want to be here for this. Zoya hadn’t put this much consideration into a gift since she’d bought things for Liliyana, and it felt like she was exposing some innermost part of herself by doing it, she could only hope that Nikolai wouldn’t realize just how much time she put into putting the present together. 

Nikolai settled into the chair beside her, slipping something under it before she could discern what it was. Odd. “Your wrapping skills are a seven, good, but clearly not as good as mine.” 

_“A seven_? As if. My skills are a ten, and even if you have absolutely no taste, you would know that they’re at least a nine and a half.” 

“Fine. A seven and a half.” 

“A nine and a half, take it or leave it.” 

“Whatever you say, commander.” His nimble fingers carefully pulled the paper apart at the seams, and Zoya waited with bated breath. 

This was a mistake, “Nikolai--” 

“Oh,” he said softly, holding up the miniature to the light from the fire, “oh.” His fingers trailed over the blonde hair of his mother’s portrait, tracing the golden hair that matched his. “Oh,” he turned his face away from her for a second, quickly scrubbing a hand over his features before he turned back to the box in his lap. _‘Oh indeed.’_

Next he pulled out a framed piece of fabric, the flag with a red hound that had flown on his boat-- the Volkvolny. Thumbing the fabric, thoughtfully, he turned to her, “how did you get this?” 

“I can’t reveal my secrets,” she replied, nodding at the box again, “there’s more.” She wasn’t about to tell him how enamored she’d been by the ride on his ship to Kerch, how it’d reminded her of what Liliyana used to tell her on their journey to the little palace. How she was surprised by his abilities as a captain, and how she’d enjoyed the trip so much, she’d charmed the crew into giving her the flag as a memento. Not tonight. 

“More? You’re spoiling me Nazyalensky.” 

“Just get it over with.” When Nikolai turned back to the box, Zoya quickly made her way to the door, scooping up the real present from Tolya’s arms before quietly closing the door behind her. 

“Zoya, is this meant to fit me?” He held up a small loop of ribbon threaded through a delicate bell. 

“Well,” she began, holding the squirming kitten out towards him… "if you don’t want her, Tolya said he would take her.” 

Nikolai blanched for a moment, and Zoya felt her heart stop again, what was he going to say? But then, he was lifting the cat into his own arms, “does she have a name?” 

Zoya blanched, wasn’t the person whose cat it was supposed to come up with the name? “I can’t do everything for you, your highness.” 

“Any suggestions?” 

“You can name her if you take her.” 

“Of course I’m taking her, Nazyalensky.” He rolled his eyes at her, setting the kitten on the floor where she curled up at his feet. “But why a cat?” 

She shrugged, “cats have nine lives, they always find a way to stay on their feet, they’re excellent at keeping their balance, and they’re aloof, and you seem to have experience in dealing with aloof personalities.” Zoya clasped her hands together as she slumped back in her chair, “not to mention that you seemed a little bit lonely-- you know, given with the broken engagement and all.” 

“I think I’ll name her Lisa.” 

“You want to name your cat… fox?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, if that’s all,” she began to stand. 

“Wait, we haven’t done your gifts yet,” Nikolai protested, “I promise I got you something.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a perfectly wrapped rectangular box, placing it gently in her hands. “I don’t want to overstep, but I hope you’ll at least think about the things in here.” 

She arched a brow at him, but he was quiet while she pulled the paper apart. “Are these _my_ beads, from my keftas?” 

“You drop them more often than you’d think.” 

She turned the clip over in her hands, the silver sparkled in the light, and with it’s curved pattern it reminded her of illustrations of a gust of wind, fine lines of sapphire stones intertwined with silver beads. Zoya let out a startled laugh, her fingers pressing into the beads, she hadn’t received something as personal as this in a very, very long time, and here she was taken aback by a pin of all things. 

“May I?” Nikolai asked, holding out his hand expectantly. When the confused look stayed on her face, he leaned forward and plucked the clip from her hands. Before she could protest however he was directly before her, his fingers brushing back her hair. Zoya wasn’t thinking anymore, hell she wasn’t sure if she was even breathing anymore. All she could feel was Nikolai’s hands against her hair, pushing her hair back, the barest warmth from his breath by her ear, the determination in his bright eyes. 

“There,” he whispered as the clip clicked into place, but he made no move back to his seat. Instead his hand trailed slowly downwards, resting at her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered against her will, and it took everything in her to stop herself from shuddering. Nikolai’s thumb grazed her cheekbone, and the next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers. Zoya reacted instantly, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. Saints, she hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted this, she was barely known she wanted it at all, but in this moment she couldn’t remember wanting anything but this. She leaned in against his touch, her forehead resting against his when they broke apart. 

“Zoya?” 

“Hm?” 

“There’s more inside the box.” She let out a little sigh, her head still spinning, the enormity of her actions still not sinking in quite yet. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was her own way of surrendering to this feeling, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care either way, she had wanted to kiss him, and so she had. And now, she wanted to do it again. 

“Nikolai, this is a piece of paper.” 

“A piece of paper with words on it.” 

“The harpy…” she hesitated for a second, letting the words wash over her. “That poem was about me?” 

“Yes, Nazyalensky.” 

“And the mornings and nights-- those parts were about me locking you in at night and coming to unlock you in the mornings?” 

“Yes, Nazyalensky.” 

His fingers threaded with hers and she settled her head against his shoulder, leaning into his embrace, “what did the star pastry mean?”<

“It didn’t mean anything, I was only trying to see how oblivious you were.” 

“Take that back,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at him, “I am not oblivious.” 

“Fine,” he amended, raising his hand in mock surrender, “not oblivious, just too scared to admit how much you actually liked me.” 

“I’ve never liked you,” she scoffed, “I’ve been tolerating you for years, there’s a difference.” 

“So when you kissed me, that was you tolerating me?” 

“You kissed me!” 

“Hmm sure, dear.” 

Zoya huffed at this, grabbing at his collar with one hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “Will that shut you up?” 

“No, but you can keep trying.” 

“Fine, I will,” and she did. 


End file.
